


Truth and Consequences

by stopmopingstarthoping



Series: Disarmed [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, M/M, Military, Pre-Canon, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16032626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: Nyx and Ignis struggle with the realities of being who they are - soldier and advisor.





	Truth and Consequences

Ignis’ eyes flew open, and he knew immediately that something was wrong. Not the fingers pleasantly stroking up and down the length of his thigh, or the scrape of bearded scruff nuzzling his neck. No, those things were definitely _right._

It was the sky, he realized as he looked out the window. It was far, far too light, and the pieces snapped together.

“Late.” He sat straight up, drawing a whine from Nyx's huddled form next to him. He immediately slung long legs over the side of the bed and stood up to collect the strewn pieces of his clothing from the floor and the chair, and - what had even happened to half of them, anyway?

Nyx rubbed his eyes. “What?”

“I’m late. Early meeting at the Citadel.”  Ignis hopped, trying to pull up a sock and pick up his shirt at the same time. “Security council.”

“Wait - what day is it?”

“Wednesday, why?” Ignis peered up from under the vest he was shucking on.

“ _Shit_. I'm on guard duty for that and I totally forgot.” Nyx’s palm struck the wadded sheets.

I'm too old for this schedule fumbling shit. You're a bad influence, Scientia.”

“Yes.” Ignis’ lips curved in a secretive, sly smile.

Still refusing to rouse from the warmth and comfort of the bed, Nyx stared at the ceiling, thinking, and blue eyes slid over to Ignis. “We can take my bike - that'll shave a few minutes off. I can probably still get us there on time - oh, not fair.” Nyx had started to sit up, but he groaned and flopped back as Ignis propped a foot on the bed and deftly attached a garter to a sock.

“What?” Ignis widened his eyes, the picture of innocence.

“You _know_ what. That's a personal attack.” Nyx’s gaze lingered on the length of the leg bent at eye level. He reached out to touch it and Ignis whisked it away neatly.

“And you, a trained Glaive, with no counter. Pity.”

Nyx smoothly launched himself out of bed and captured Ignis’ lips in a firm kiss, making Ignis press back for more. The Council temporarily forgotten (again), hands gripped into hair, mouths opened, and eyes closed. Nyx carried the intensity of the previous night on his tongue, which Ignis met eagerly.

A few more breathless moments, a nip at a lower lip, a groan that there was not more time, and Ignis collected himself, clearing his throat. “I am _not_ showing up to a Council meeting on the back of your motorcycle.” He straightened his collar with deft fingers and pulled his tie taut behind his neck before crossing one end over the other.

A cocky eyebrow poked up in response. “Why not? Too concerned about jealous backstabbers?”

Ignis laughed. “No, though I'm sure several of them would be quite jealous.” Ignis broke eye contact with the mirror for a moment as he finished the knot, and bent to wrap long fingers around Nyx's neck, pulling him in for another kiss. It was light, but lingering, a teasing tongue flicking at Nyx’s lips.

Ignis returned to the mirror, sliding on his glasses and making the best of what had happened to his hair. Showering and then sleeping on it last night had created quite the interesting situation. “It's simply not appropriate. We work together. Rolling up, making it obvious we've spent the night - it’s not proper.”

“I'll just say I picked you up at your place to give you a ride.” Nyx tried to keep a straight face but grinned at his own pun.

Ignis was firm, despite the nearly imperceptible bend to the corners of his mouth. “No.”

Nyx wheedled. “At least let me drop you off a block or two away. I feel bad that you're late.”

“You have precisely nothing to feel bad about after last night.” A stern glance accompanied Ignis’ statement, and Nyx cackled as he put on his pants. “That sounds perfect, thank you,” said Ignis. As did the prospect of sitting behind Nyx and holding him closely as he wove through traffic, Ignis thought, but Nyx knew that. At least the inevitable helmet head might prove useful.

“Fine, fine.” Nyx slung his coat on as Ignis finished pulling on his gloves. “You ready?”

Ignis nodded briskly, already in work mode. He tried to avoid thinking about how comfortable and natural it felt to be heading out together in the morning, or how it might be enjoyable to do so on a more regular basis. He followed Nyx toward the door, tingling at the hand that pressed lightly to his back as he passed.

* * *

Another one. Another fucking funeral. Nyx shook his head, tightening the knot around his neck in the bathroom before stepping back out into the room. Everyone lingered, wearing dark tones as a sign of respect; black if their station warranted it, though people in dark gray, deep purple, and forest green also hovered, talking in quiet voices.

Nyx hated this navy blue suit for a lot of reasons, and today would just be one more.

She'd been high-ranking enough to warrant a drop-by from Noctis (not Regis - such was the hierarchy of dead soldiers), which necessarily meant that Gladio was in tow.

As was Ignis. Tall, elegant, with an impeccably tailored black suit. Of course.

Nyx swallowed. “Crownsguard Scientia.”

Ignis stepped closer for a moment, his voice low. “You knew her?”

“Yeah. My first drill instructor, actually.” Nyx stared at one of his freshly-polished shoes. When he looked up, he didn't bother to hide from Ignis the sadness, regret, and anger that tinged this entire day with a haze of unreality.

“It doesn't get easier no matter how many Glaives fall, you know?”

Ignis nodded, slowly.  

They filed into their seats for the memorial. Nyx sat in a row in the middle with one or two other Glaives, and he looked forward to see Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis in a row near the family. A woman in a long, deep wine dress got up to speak, and as she clutched the podium and fought back tears, Nyx’s eyes widened. As she talked, it became clear that this was Lieutenant Colonel Vincit’s wife. _Widow_ , he corrected himself.

 _Damn_. Kenna had apparently chosen a wife just like her - tough as fucking nails. Nyx was floored that she was able to get through the speech; it was heartfelt and moving and even a little funny here and there. He clenched his fists for her as she almost lost composure once, then twice, and finally finished to return to her seat. Nyx had been too young, and too much of an asshole, for anyone to ask him to speak at the services they’d held for his mother, and for Selena. But if they had, he wasn’t sure if he could have done it.

Nyx looked at Noctis, conflicted. He was young, too, and this had to be hard for him. On the other hand, it was good for him to know the price of the war his father waged. Good for him to understand that the Crown’s defenses were made up of people:  individuals, with families who mourned their deaths, and were never the same afterward.

People who went on to live their lives, of course, but had days when the desperate wish to have things _not be this way_ was overwhelming. People, who would have to walk through certain days listening to people talk, and nodding in response, but mostly feeling the cold burn of disappointment and distaste with reality in their chests. Nyx sighed. Funerals were always like this. He couldn’t not go, and yet every time it would fuck him up completely for a few days.

Nyx stood in line to talk to Kenna’s wife - Cessny - and told her her his favorite story about Kenna. Cessny took the hand he offered in both her own, and again he was deeply affected by her strength and generosity as he watched her do so with all the visitors - as if this day was for them and not for her to remember the most important person in her life. Nyx’s throat tightened, and he stepped out into the too-bright sunlight, deciding to take the long walk home over flat and even sidewalks.

The sound of solid heels clicked behind him over the softer tread of his dress boots, and Nyx turned around.  

“Aren’t you on duty?”

“He’s fine with Gladio.” Ignis caught up with long strides. “I thought you might want company.”

Nyx kept walking. “It’s probably not - I’m not real fun right now.”

Ignis matched his steps. “Okay.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to be.”

Nyx darted a sideways glance at him, thankful but guarded. They walked in silence, and Nyx found himself appreciating Ignis’ ability to be comfortable without constant talk.

The sun beat down, and Nyx felt the heat on the top of his head. He looked over at Ignis again. ‘You ever had to kill anything before?”

Ignis’ eyes widened, just slightly, and he shook his head. “No.” After a pause, he asked, “Why do you ask?”

Nyx let out a breath. “Just wanted to know.”

“All that training, and I’ve never even been in a real battle before. Unless you count the relentless beatings we receive from the Marshal.”

Nyx smiled faintly. “Yeah, Cor literally does not pull any punches.”  Another long pause, and Nyx watched Ignis walk next to him for a while.

“Ignis? I hope you never do.”

Ignis inclined his head slightly, sadly, and reached out for Nyx’s hand. Nyx let him take it, and they walked.

* * *

Nyx lay on his back, flipping one of his practice kukris in the air and catching it repeatedly.

Ignis looked down at him, sweat darkening the front of his shirt, as the kukri flashed and spun up and then back down to stop, over and over. “Why did you agree to all this, anyway?” Ignis picked up his duffel bag from where he’d set it, at the side of the mat, well clear of their spar.

“Because, dumbass, you're gorgeous.” Nyx laughed, continuing to fling the curved blade up toward the ceiling and snatch it by the handle just before it hit his face. “Actually,” his voice took on a tone of mock seriousness, “it’s all part of my complicated plan. You're gonna be somebody someday, right? Advisor to the king and all that. And I thought, wouldn't it be fun to help write _that_ backstory? You know, the sexy Glaive boyfriend part of the backstory?” He caught the blade and paused at his own choice of words. Well, they were out now.

Ignis just flushed and turned to put his daggers back into his bag. “Really? That seems like a curious bit of overthinking. Along with giving me far too much credit.”

Nyx laughed. “Nah, not really. You're hot and fun; can't that be enough of a reason? Like you had a deeper more meaningful one. Come on.” He gave Ignis a dashing grin while catching one of his kukris without looking, which made Ignis flinch, and then laugh.

“You're ridiculous, and I suppose that is enough. Glad I'm sufficient to entertain your monstrous ego.”

Nyx rolled to his feet to put the kukris away. “That's not all that's -” He was stopped by two slim fingers pressed to his lips in laughing exasperation.  

“No. If you would like to pursue any further ... activities tonight, you will not finish that sentence.” Ignis cocked a curved eyebrow in Nyx's direction, only to lose his composure again as Nyx turned his head and nipped at his fingers. Ignis slid his hand away, but ended up caressing the stubble along Nyx's jaw and pulling him in closer.

“Glaive Ulric, what is wrong with you?” The mocking scold was murmured against Nyx's lips and lost in the warmth of a kiss.

* * *

Nyx lifted his knuckles to rap on the wooden door to Ignis’ office, but halted when he heard an odd sound from the other side of the door.  It sounded like a caught breath, or - there it was again. He knew the sound but didn’t associate it with the man in the office.

Concerned, he looked both ways down the hallway before leaning his head close to the brown grain of the carved walnut. There was no one to see him being overly familiar, no one to witness a more intimate form of address. “Hey, Ignis. It’s me, Nyx. Are you okay - can I come in?”

“Yeah.” The short, raw response was uncharacteristic, too, and Nyx’s brow furrowed as he turned the handle and opened the door just enough to slip through, closing it quickly and quietly behind him.

Ignis had an elbow on his desk, thumb and fingers shoved up behind his glasses, in a clear attempt to avoid crumbling completely. A report lay face-up in front of him, cast down once he’d digested what was contained in the short two pages.

“What’s going on?”

Ignis didn’t answer; Nyx just saw the his jaw poke outward as he clenched his teeth in an attempt to collect himself. Even though he knew he didn’t have the same security clearance as Ignis, Nyx snatched up the paper and scanned through. _Fuck. Shit. Fourteen Glaives lost, in a horribly, disastrously unsuccessful mission._ Nyx made a tight fist unconsciously, and the date at the top of the paper drew his attention again.

“This is two days old. Why doesn’t the Glaive know about this yet? What the fuck, Ignis?” He barked the words out and threw the report back down onto the desk, stalking around to the other side and running a hand through his hair. Nyx felt the loss tighten and burn in his chest, though it was the injustice that had made him explode.

Ignis drew in a long breath and held it. “Everything goes through Captain Drautos first. Then it’s sent to me for,” he flinched, “messaging.”

“Messaging?” Nyx just looked at him.

Ignis took off his glasses, propped his elbows, clasped both hands together, and leaned his forehead on them, closing his eyes again. “I don’t - I don’t have an answer. Or an explanation. This is my fault.” His face twisted again.

That Council meeting last week - the one we were late for. It set all this in motion. At my direction.”

“Titus Drautos and Clarus Amicitia were in that room too; this isn’t completely on you.”

Ignis opened his eyes again to look at Nyx, not moving his head from where it rested against his clenched hands. “Do you think, if there’s a mistake in that room, that it’s down to either one of those two? No, more likely it’s the poor judgment of someone who, as you so aptly put it, has never had to kill anything in his life.”

 _Any one of those Glaives could have been you._ Nyx watched Ignis bite the words back, watched him wrestle with the guilt of only feeling this pain so starkly when it hit close to home. Close - to whatever they'd been dancing around. Nyx felt distance open up like a chasm between them, and he simultaneously wanted to sweep Ignis into his arms and tell him it wasn't his fault, and warp the fuck out of there and not think about anything for a while.

He did neither, awkwardly. As he stood still in Ignis’ office, the sight of the dispatch made him angry again.

“I'll keep this to myself for the next 24 hours. After that, you're stuck with whatever 'messaging’ comes out of my mouth, and I'm pretty sure you're not gonna like it.”

Ignis looked down and nodded. “That's only fair.” His voice was a harsh rasp. He didn't apologize again, though he looked like he wanted to.

Ignis’ office light was still on when Nyx's guard shift ended, and Nyx didn't feel guilty about it at all.

* * *

Libertus had seen Nyx glowering around the Citadel and hustled him to a bar in the Galahdian quarter as soon as they were off shift. His friend knew this mood, and poked and prodded and plied him with food and liquor until he loosened up.

“It’s different when it’s another soldier at least. Least they know what they’re in for. We’ve all accepted this crazy bullshit on some level.” Nyx gestured in exasperation.

“Yeah, that whole ‘another soldier’ thing worked out real well last time.” Libertus drained his beer, but didn’t shrink from the murderous look Nyx shot him.

“Anyway, that’s water under the goddamn bridge.” Nyx sat back and folded his arms.

Libertus mock toasted him with a wry grin. “Yeah, wind under the old dreadnought.”

“ _Anyway_.” Nyx gave Libertus his best _shut the fuck up_ glare, not that he ever listened. “Not what I’m talking about. He’s a nineteen-year-old kid, Libertus. And they’ve got him on the security council, making decisions - helping make decisions, and it’s fucked up, okay? He’s never been in a battle, despite the fact that he’s smart as fuck, we all know that, but it’s a lot. It’s a lot to ask some _kid_ to decide who’s on the line and who’s not, trying to keep us safe, trying to minimize the costs. It’s so fucked up.”  Nyx slapped his hand down on the table. He knew he was rambling, but they'd talked like this many times over the years, trading off rambling and listening, and Nyx was grateful for the ear.

Libertus laughed. “I have not heard you refer to him as a _kid_ one time before this moment. And he scares the life out of half the people in the Citadel. I don’t think it’s the age difference giving you trouble, Nyx.”

“No? Then what is it, oh wisest asshole of friends?”

“You care too much.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Nyx waved a hand and flopped back into his chair, not meeting Libertus’ eyes.

“Not likely. Look,” Libertus clapped a slightly unsteady hand on Nyx’s shoulder. “You know, I know, we all know it could be one of us next time. And that’s what’s fucking you up. He knows it too. You think he cares about you the way you obviously care about him? Why wouldn’t you be someone he’s scared to lose?”

Nyx’s glassy gaze darted up at that. _Because I’m not that for anyone_ , he thought, but he remained silent.

Libertus continued. “I’m not saying this right, but - don’t run away from something for that reason, eh? Seems stupid not to grab what we can in this royally fucked-up mess we’re all part of.” He got up and gestured with his chin at Nyx to come with him.

Nyx sighed and rolled himself out of the seat, throwing money on the table and following Libertus out of the bar.

“I don’t know, man, sometimes it just seems like it would be easier to be alone.”

* * *

“So after the meeting I gotta train with Noct, and then we can - “ Gladio cut himself off, noticing that Ignis was staring down at his phone, not responding. “Hey, Iggy. Everything okay?”

“What? Yes, of course.” Ignis shoved his phone in his pocket and paid attention to the week’s schedule, trying not to let it bother him that no responsive buzz came through for the rest of the night. Or the next night. Or the night after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I steal my own Tumblr drabble for the beginning of this because it fit perfectly? Yes, I absolutely did!


End file.
